


Here With Me

by BRobeast



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17229890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRobeast/pseuds/BRobeast
Summary: Prompt fill ♥️ShattSunday Dec Prompt: "Bending Over" In the Castle (or on Atlas), Shiro drops a pad on the floor and while he's picking it up, he hears someone whistle by the door 8)**There are bits from “The Middle” universe, but nothing that needs understanding.





	Here With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Giraffvinu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffvinu/gifts).



> A prompt fill for the wonderful Giraffvinu ♥️

Shiro had spent the greater half of his day wandering about the Atlas, finding members of a command that had grown to an exponential scale, very quickly, and trying his best to fill in the gaps. The Atlas was full of personnel Shiro had not known much about outside of the notion that they were all fighting for the same cause.

Which given the current circumstances that was...enough. And reasonably he knew there was no true way to know every face and every name, but trying? Well, _that_ was possible.

In fact, it was better if they all got to know eachother. A more coherent team would always work better together. It just...all felt very fractured still. The Rebels picked barracks close to other Rebels. The MFEs were already bunked up. The Voltron team had all conjugated together. The Blades were elusive as always and Galaxy Garrison personnel trickled in where they saw fit, segregated by rank- as usual. 

Shiro had noticed it stayed that way at chow as well. 

If he could just gather some information and come up with some kind of command activity there could be a way to boost morale and shake up the groups a bit. 

He made rounds with a pad that he used to scribble notes into on his walks between personnel. Currently he’d been in the wing occupied most by Rebels and second by The Blades.

“So, N-7, was it? How did you end up with the Rebels?” 

“That was Matt’s fault,” came a monotone reply and Shiro chuckled to himself.

Of course it would have been. 

“I am from a manufacturing planet. We are droids for ships and are always with a ship...unless...something...goes wrong” N-7 crossed their arms, which had been one of the more human gestures he’d seen from the droid since their arrival on earth. Maybe there was more of an exchange between groups than Shiro was aware, “Matthew Holt destroyed my ship in an attempt to escape a very angry group of very nasty droids.”

“W...what happened?”

“Well, he would later inform me that he had tried to woo the leader of said droids. That did not go well for obvious reason. Regardless he owed me a ship. I followed him through the desert of Natyne for nearly two movements....for a bright man...he’s very dumb.”

N7 was incredibly hard to read. Shiro wasn’t entirely sure if the story he’d been told was a fond retelling, or a seething recollection. He fought the smile pulling at the corners of his lips, just to be safe, committing to more of an amused nod than anything else. 

“Is that all?” A prod that could have been anywhere on the scale from irritation to just a helpful inquiry, and no social clues to go on. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes,” he figured there was enough there to go off of, “thank you.”

N7 nodded and returned to what looked like Pidge’s recent conquest on a throwback game console; “Zombies Ate My Neighbors.” Shiro made his way back out into the hall, shifting to take the pad out from where he’d pinned it beneath his armpit. 

“Hm…” he hummed to himself, tapping the end of the stylus at the center of his lips in thought.

The toe of his boot fell, gently pressing into the floor, before Shiro pushed off again- just enough to make it to the corner and redirect himself. His opposite boot hit the floor with a hollow, metallic clang. Just as he’d shifted to push off again the Atlas’ gravity must have been recalibrated in that exact moment because the pad that had been balanced on his forearm took a nosedive. Shiro jolted, his body taking the moment it needed to adjust proprioception, and failing miserably to catch the device before it hit the floor. 

The sound hadn’t helped to ease the bruise to his ego...and the whistle that followed just seemed like a cruel cosmic joke.

“Shiro there are better ways to get a dude’s attention,” the laughter in a voice he used to think he’d never hear again carried down the hall, “like doing interviews on everybody over here, except _me_? Now _that’s_ the best way to get my attention.”

Shiro smirked, shaking his head as he stood at full height, and turned to face his apparent cat-caller.

“Well, Mr. Matthew G. Holt. It’s bold of you to assume it was your attention I wanted. Besides, from what I hear you’ve already tried to woo some kind droid mafia leader.”

Matt stepped closer and Shiro could see the twitch at the corner of the rebel’s mouth where he’d been trying to desperately control the smile threatening to take control.

“Oh, I’ve wooed a lot of extraterrestrial life, Shiro,” Matt teased closing the space between them, and tilting the pad down with his index finger to get a better look at what was on the screen,” For science.”

“Yeah? Have all of those resulted in you blowing up a bystander’s ship?” Shiro countered, moving the pad away from prying eyes, “Because I’m starting to wonder if you have some outstanding debts we need to bring up to the SSO.”

“Only about half. And of course N-7 would tell you that story! And not how we were wandering the freaking desert- me on my last legs! And they decided not to tell me Reamu Catus were fucking poisonous until _after_ I ate it!” 

A bark of a laugh jumped from Shiro’s lips. Not at all surprised that the man in front of him would have managed to find himself in a situation like that. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!” Matt groaned pressing a finger to the center of Shiro’s chest, “I thought I was going to die out there. Survived getting abducted, escaped a Galra prison, and was going to die in the middle of a desert because a droid thought it would be funny! I got ‘em back though. N7 thought the proper way to greet humans was to dab for the first three weeks after we landed.” 

Shiro scribbled something down on his pad with an easy smile and Matt narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, make sure you put a note in that I’ve risked life and limb for science.”

“A noble cause, Matt. You really did put your body on the line.”

“Yeah, and I’d like to put my body on other things. You know...for science.”

“You are creeping dangerously close to red light territory there, mister”

“Hmm,” he hummed at the back of his throat leaning forwards, his hands braced against the curve of Shiro’s chest, and his mouth on the shell of of his ear, “am I?”

Shiro squirmed, a quiet laugh stirring in his chest as he tried to angle away from Matt’s mouth.

“That’s tickles,” he hissed, trying to fight the noises back down into something manageable.

“What this?” Persistent as ever the cursed Holt dragged his bottom lip over the edge of Shiro’s ear.

“Red light!” Shiro laughed, the meat of his palms on the curve of Matt’s shoulders as he pushed him back, “Red light! IswearIwillpunchyou.”

“Mm, do it with your strong hand~” he teased, allowing Shiro to direct him backwards.

Amber eyes lifted to the ceiling as he patiently awaited the feeling of the ground beneath his feet- cruising on the minimal force from Shiro’s shove. 

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you.”

“Oh, come ooon,” Matt drawled, holding up his hands- fingers curled into a heart shape.

”you love me.” He whispered from across the hall.

“I’m debating,” Shiro teased with a laugh, ”Now, I’m finding out that my partner has had dealings with off planet undergrounds, steals ships he can’t pilot, crossed a desert? And lived through being poisoned? Do I even know you anymore?” 

“You know if you asked about my brushes with death in the cosmos I’d tell you…”

A beat passed between them. It was easy for the rest of the coalition to get swallowed up in the shadow of Voltron. The Blades operated by being unseen and unsung, but the Rebels? More often than not they were the hand of a kind of warfare that had been messy, under supplied, and more dangerous than most. Most times in liberation Voltron got the majority of the praise. Matt has mentioned a few groups reaching out to the Rebels specifically in thanks, but it was far in between. 

They did a lot of thankless work.

Matt had done a lot of thankless work.

Shiro knew it was just teasing, but he had enough quiet conversations with Matt in his room know a small piece of it was rooted in a truth. He hasn’t asked much. Maybe he was always too quick to move on. Maybe he was even quicker not to dwell in the past when it came to Matt because they had been in it together from the beginning. They’d been through a lot more together than most.

But there were stories...great stories… _brave_ stories that he would hear second hand from other rebels when Shiro found himself absent in Matt’s life. Stories from when they were galaxies away doing two very different jobs. Stories he never really heard from Matt himself...because he’d forgotten to ask. It was too easy sometimes to feel like he already knew everything to know about the man in front of him when they had such a history. They were just children really in the beginning and even now- standing there in their late twenties it felt like it was millennia ago. 

“That’d actually be nice…”

“What would be?” Matt blinked, raising an eyebrow in confusion as Shiro’s reply was lost on him.

“Hearing about what you did. About what you were up to and what you learned.” 

Shiro could feel those amber eyes searching his face, before a lazy smile spread across Matt’s lips, pushing his scar up on the curve of his cheek.

“Sure. It’s a date. Better get some food ‘cause a lot went down! We’re going to work up an appetite with all that adventure!” 

“Alright!” Shiro laughed, pushing off the floor and sending himself floating backwards, “I look forward to it!”

“My life has been like an intergalactic romance novel and an action flick all mixed into one!” Matt called down the hall, pushing off in the direction he’d come from. 

“So, wine? And...I don’t know...beef jerky depending on the kind of story?”

“That’s disgusting, Shirogane.”

“Well! I figure someone willing to put it all out there for science was adventurous. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Wine is good! I’ll get _actual_ food. I’m cool being vanilla if it means I don’t have to mix alcohol and beef jerky. BUT! If someone’s going to listen me you bet your ass I’m bouncing some theories off of you!”

The halls fell silent as the rebel considered something, before shouting over his shoulder: 

“AMOUNG OTHER THINGS!”

“Now who’s disgusting!?”

“JUST SAYING!” 

 

-*-

“Can I just say this is possibly the weirdest date I’ve ever been on? And I’ve hung out with Avisjorians…” Matt chuckled into the mouth of a wine bottle.

Matt had been half reclined on his side of Shiro’s bed with a pile of pillows stacked beneath his back. He’d wandered in sometime past curfew, barefoot in his pajama bottoms, and a tray of some kind of baked sweets. Shiro had procured a bottle of wine from the diplomat pantry. He’d been thumbing through reports in his Garrison hoodie, and a loose pair of sweats, when he heard the knock at his door. 

There were moments with them where it felt like a time capsule. It was easy to forget how many years had passed. How much had gone wrong or right in those years. It was just them, how they’ve always been, again. Nostalgia had a tight grasp around their hearts. In an instant they’re back at the Garrison, pressed together on a plastic sealed mattress, eating cookies Matt snuck from chow hall, and pouring over a comic- or philosophizing into the next morning. 

Hunk would more than likely notice the missing bottle and throw a fit in the morning. If they were being honest earth wine was more of a novelty. It didn’t really stand up well to some of the alcohol adjacent beverages from other planets. No one would miss it and Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to worry. To be anything, but comfortable in that moment. 

“Weird?” Shiro quipped from where he laid on the bed beside Matt, half of a biscuit held lazily between two fingers. 

“Mhmm,” Matt confirmed, leaning to the side to steal the last of the treat away from Shiro and trade it for the wine bottle, “ ‘sbasically been an interview.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He asked, taking a sip from the bottle and watching Matt’s face over the curve of it. 

“True. True. And get ready to be romanced because we are going to delve into why I think Garla are the most compatible when it comes to the horizontal mambo,” Matt declared, throwing his head back in an attempt to shuffle his bangs out of his eyes, “Now, the shape of Daibazaal is key to this whole theory- so just stick with me. The one thing I noticed is that the Galra have a huge spectrum of variation, right? Like we end up with some of these folks being massive right? Like...like Sendak (may he burn in a pit somewhere) massive. And then you’ve got kinda smaller builds; like Krolia. Which at first I thought might just be how sexes present. Like bigger males and smaller females. But! There’s giant women- just big, sexy, crush your skull like a watermelon between the thighs, women.”

Shiro snorted, the noise caught in the belly of the wine bottle with a windless whistle. 

“Then there’s variation in color! You’ve got just the infinite variation in the shade, but the one thing I noticed is that the majority have a correlation with size and shade, right? That’s got to be because of the shape of the planet! You’ve got that rounded side just getting beaten to hell by radiation and solar elements- that’s how you end up with a variation of bigger size and darker color! These are tough a nails, linebacker, type variations because they’ve had to adapt to freaking _survive_ , right? 

Then on the flip side of Daibazall you’ve got that concave bit. Less light right? The other side of the planet is essentially a shield for that region. It’s soaking up the heat, the radiation, flares, probably most of the galactic junk just getting sucked up into the atmosphere and slammed into the surface right? And on top of that it’s _thin_ , right? Thinner than a spherical planet anyways. So that heat gets transferred subterraneously through to the darker side. Adaptation wise the ancient Galra, or whatever, on that side of the planet don’t have to rely on adipose to keep them warm in the dark because the earth itself is warm. Then the light and radiation are absent- lighter colors. They’ve got a whole different system to function in. They need to be quick, and nimble, and built more like ninja than tanks.”

Matt swung the biscuit about in his hand as he spoke and Shiro just watched him in silence. The warm light casted from the table lamp on his desk at the corner of the room swam across freckled skin, kissing the sharp curve of Matt’s chin, and the angular peak of his nose. Strawberry strands of hair, that slid loose from the lazy bun at the back of his head, danced over his shoulders with every wild swing of his arms. 

“And that variation is why you’ve got Galra getting jiggy with humans and then all different kinds of other extraterrestrials- _successfully_! Then with groups off planet over the last like 10,000 years or whatever region isn’t really an issue. Everyone’s crammed on a ship or a base or...y’know what I mean. Anyways, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Alteans might be pretty similar, but I’m thinking their compatibility might have something to do with the whole shape shifting diplomat thing and-“

“You are _so_ beautiful.”

“I-I what?” Matt stuttered, his hands coming to rest on his bare stomach, limp in the confusion of where Shiro’s line of thought must have been. Lost in how talking about aliens fucking was in anyway something as delicate as...beautiful. 

“Sorry, I just was watching you- while you were talking and I...had to say something.”

“Were you even listening to what I was saying or were you too distracted my beauty?” He teased, tossing the rest of the biscuit in his mouth, before moving to straddle Shiro’s hips. 

Shiro shifted, holding the hand with the wine bottle in it off to the side in order to avoid it slamming into Matt’s knee, or spilling. His opposite hand coming to rest gently against the belly of Matt’s thigh as he looked up at the smirk on the man now above him.

“I was listening. You’re just...you’re brilliant. You know that? And just- the way you pick stuff apart and how passionate you are just about- everything. Just discovering everything it’s like…”

Shiro paused, biting his lip in thought, searching for the correct words to match the warm swell of honey in his chest when he watched Matt caught up in feverent thought. 

“...It’s like falling in love with space all over again...” 

“...is it?” The games and the teasing seemed to have melted away, swallowed down with the biscuit. Something like a stark realization sat heavy in Matt’s eyes as he looked down at Shiro.

“It is,” he confirmed, softly setting the wine bottle down on the corner of the table top.

His free hand slid up the length of Matt’s other thigh, a solid thumb pressing into the curve of a hip bone, the pads of his fingers held fast to the curve in his hip. 

“So much shit has happened…” the rebel started quietly, his hands traveling along the ripple of Shiro’s ribs, and coming to rest against his chest with flat palms, “good shit...and bad shit…we’re never going to get back. Back to where we were, but sometimes, when it’s like this. It feels close enough. And that feeling...sucks...at the same time.”

He knew Matt was right. Half the time when they clung to eachother to get through the worst of things they were clinging to the past. Things were simpler when they were younger. Growing older in the years of a normal life left an ache of mourning in the pit of people’s hearts. The yearning for old, familiar, and simple. They’d missed out on that. They grew up far faster than anyone could ever ask of a couple of kids following their dreams.

They adapted to survive and Shiro knew when they were like this he was just as much in love with the nostalgia as he was in love with Matt. He knew it was the case for Matt as well. Shiro could see the way Matt looked at Pidge like he was mourning her childhood too. It was a lot to carry. It was a lot to hold in the pit of your chest when there was no possibly way you could control time- no matter how much you cried, or begged, or wished.

“...Matt…” 

“You remember in bootcamp? When we had that “brace for impact drill”...if our ships got hit?” He leaned forward, melting into the hands that had lifted from his hips to cup the sides of his cheeks, and settled his weight into rough palms. 

Matt’s hands slid over the curves of Shiro’s shoulders. His fingerprints sifting like quiet whispers of touch, sending the muscles below twitching, and the hair on the back of Shiro’s arms standing on end. 

“...yeah…” he replied breathlessly, watching the flicker of emotion on the rebel’s face, until he’s leaned forward far enough that his nose brushed along the skin of Shiro’s ear. 

“Good. You better brace for impact. ‘Cause I’m about to rock your boat.” 

Shiro snorted, pushing his knees up into the meat of Matt’s ass, and sending him crashing face first into the pillows just beyond Shiro’s shoulder.

“Seriously!?” He laughed, hooking his arm around Matt’s lower back, and twisting to pull him off. 

“Dead serious. Apparently men not listening to me when I speak because their dumbfounded by my beauty is a real turn on.”

Shiro rolled, pinning Matt to the mattress beneath him, with his knees pressed into the rebel’s palms. 

“Now what?” Matt smirked, waggling his eyebrows like some sort of cartoon flirt. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” he crooned, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to Matt’s forehead, his hands coming to rest against the pinned man’s sides.

“Mmm….can’t wait…” came a throaty growl.

Until the hands on his side curled fingers against sensitive skin and Matt was sent squirming beneath the assault on his sides.

“TICKLING!?” He squealed, trashing against the weight on his hands, “I’M TOO DRUNK FOR THIS SHIT!!!”

“You’re not drunk!” Shiro laughed, pressing his mouth against the junction of neck and trapezius.

Matt’s hips jerked beneath him, colliding with Shiro’s weight, and nearly sending him crashing forwards.

“You can’t tickle me and turn me on at the same time asshole,” came a breathless declaration.

Matt turned his head, trying his best to close the space between his ear and shoulder in an attempt to thwart Shiro’s attempt to lay open mouthed kisses along the skin of his shoulder. 

“Alright, Alright!” Shiro chuckled, his mouth pressed into the dip of Matt’s collar bone, as he lifted his hands out to the side in surrender. The bridge of his nose pinned between Matt’s jaw and his shoulder.

“Good.” a petulant huff. 

And for a moment the only sound in the dimly lit room was the quiet motions of mouth against bare skin and the build up of gasping breath. 

In one quick motion Matt lifted his hips, pressing hard into Shiro’s inner thigh, and rolling him off- back to his side of the mattress. Shiro blinked, staring up at the smooth ceiling panels for a moment, caught off guard. He knew full well that Matt could handle himself when it came to grappling or hand-to-hand, but he hadn’t expected it in that moment. 

And before he could formulate the best response he felt the dig of fingers into the meat just above his knee, sending him into a reflexive convulsion. His arm swinging out to try and get as far away from the sensation as possible, but Matt had shuffled out of the way on his knees.

“Now we’re even,” Matt stated simply, the heavy press of fingers into his thigh lifting in favor of a long push of motion up the inside of his Shiro’s leg.

Wavy strands of red and blonde hung loose on either side of the rebels neck as he shifted to sit between Shiro’s knees. The hair tie left abandoned where it was knocked free from the frantic squirms earlier. It wasn’t the first time that night Shiro found himself breathless in observation. The flecks of gold in a familiar gaze blazed in the casted lamp light as Matt lifted his eyes from where hands drifted beneath the fabric of Shiro’s hoodie.

He pressed his weight into his knees as he leaned over the body beneath him, bowing the mattress out beneath Shiro’s thighs. Rough palms swam across the skin of Shiro’s stomach, the bottom of his sweatshirt bunching at the curve of Matt’s wrists as they traveled over the curve of his chest, before sliding back down again.

It was a familiar touch. It always was. Something he’d seen Matthew do for the first time in the bunks on the way to Kerberos. Something about it lulled his body into relaxation. It was like his cells had taken a deep breath and went ply beneath callused fingertips. His chest lifted steadily on an easy inhale, his lungs stretching just further than usual, before exhaling through his nose.

And Matthew’s hands slid back up Shiro’s sides on the second inhale. They pressed into the muscle at the sides of his chest, curled over the dip in front of his shoulders, and as Matthew leaned in to press his lips to corner of Shiro’s brow they drifted to the curve of his arms. 

A second kiss pressed to edge of his cheekbone.

A third at the corner of his mouth.

There was a unanimous pause- like on some level they agreed to take that moment to let time slip away from them and live in the shadows trapped in the corners. Shiro’s breathing shifted steady and relaxed beneath sliding touches. He could feel the warmth of Matt’s exhale were his nose pressed into the curve of his cheek.

It was a small shift, but as Shiro tilted his head enough to match his lips to Matt’s, the movement stirred the rebels hands into action. The breath in his lungs hitched as a heavier touch of palms pressed lines down his torso. His tongue pressed forward to knead into Matt’s lower lip before being granted the expanse of a warm mouth. 

He could feel the curve of Matt’s spine melt beneath the weight of his fingers as strong hands spread against freckled shoulder blades, pressing the rebel down into the body beneath him. 

The fabric of his hoodie sat bunched beneath his armpits and sandwiched between their chests, but in the moment neither seemed to mind. A quiet, breathless, moan pressed into his mouth as he trailed his fingers down either side of Matt’s spine. He could feel the press of the man caught between his leg, half hard, at the junction of his thigh with the tentative curl of the rebel’s hips. The air in Shiro’s lungs burned and in a throaty huff of sound it left him.

“...oh, Matt…” on the inhale, his fingers pressing into solid base of Matthew’s sacrum, his thumbs digging into the softer meat of his hips. 

“Mmm,” a hum reverberating against his mouth. 

The contact flooded every sense and it crescendoed along with the briefest motion of Matt’s hips rolling, dipping down against him, before he pulled back. He took Shiro’s breath with him, his heart stalled with the sudden lack of touch, wide eyes as the rebel’s hands grabbed at the front of his hoodie. 

“You’re going to choke yourself out,” a quiet, but heady chuckle. 

And without further instruction Shiro curled in on himself. A deep, pinching, tingle in the dimples at his lower back sparked when the shift pressed him against Matt’s hips eliciting a desperate curse from the man above him. He struggled for a brief moment with the drab colored fabric, until he managed to get his head free, and Matt eased it the rest of the way off of his arms.

Just as Shiro shifted to pull his wrists out of the arms he felt Matthew’s weight jerk, making quick work of the sleeves. His wrists sat caught in fabric and pinned above his head, buried in the pile of pillows propped against the headboard. 

“Now what?” Shiro parroted back, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

“Don’t tempt me,” Matt laughed, lifting his hold off of the trapped hands in favor of praising the soft skin on the inside of Shiro’s arms- curling beneath his back. Fingers splayed between broad shoulder blades and soft mattress, resting his weight half on his own elbows and half against Shiro’s chest.

Their mouths met again. Reunited after being apart for what felt like far too long. A sentiment both of them understood more than they’d ever care to. 

Shiro’s hands drifted their course back down Matthew’s back, his fingertips pressing into the flesh of his hips, thumbs hooked over the waistband of pajama pants. He pressed the fabric down, over the curve of Matthew’s glutes, and pulled down. The waistband of the pants like a makeshift stirrup, giving him more leverage to grind Matthew’s hips down into his. The broken whimper of sound echoed against the walls of his mouth sending a hot spike is arousal down his spine. 

The pressure held there relieved somewhat by the press of weight and friction afforded by the clever use of fabric and force. He could feel Matthew against him pulled along his length with the frustrating catch of fabric. 

“Fuck, Shiro,” gasped against his mouth, the kisses between them sloppy, lost in chasing a similar sensation. His hips lifted, the muscle beneath Shiro’s hands flexing to assist the pull of the fabric sling across the curve of his ass. 

A forceful press of hips leaving them both breathless, their foreheads pressed together, their breath in shakey exhales between their parted mouths. The pitiful whine from Shiro’s throat lifted into heavy air and he couldn’t tell if that was what stoked the fire in the eyes locked on his, or if that was just the way the light caught in honeyed amber.

He couldn’t find much focus for further investigation as Matthew pushed up, off of his elbows, escaping the embrace of Shiro’s arms in favor of pulling his pants to his knees. He knelt there is shades of fire and gold- and the time that saw fit to hide in shadows returned to them with a roaring noise only they could hear.

Old scars, once a salmon color pink, turned pale and shiny. They maped his chest in sharp punctures where the Galra sentries inspired he work harder, work faster. The muscle there more defined- a triumph for Matt. He’d always joked about stealing Shiro’s riding jacket once he was “buff” enough to fill it out. 

And he was, had been for a while, but never asked. 

So much time had passed. 

So much had changed.

And stood there on flushed skin.

A dark reminder

There were other scars amoung them. Something like an animal bite curved over his ribs on the right side. A burn below that. He knew the stories now. Misadventures of a boy who used to think he was too weak to have them on his own.

How wrong he’d been.

He was strong enough to pursue the adventure in his heart. No longer limited to books or studies. He was _so_ incredibly strong for having gone on those adventures alone- making his own way in space. 

These scars were his stories.

They didn’t hurt somewhere deep in place intangible. He smiled, a hand lifting to run a finger across the stitching lines just above the curve of Matt’s hip.

“...I don’t have a story for that one,” Matt sighed, his hands braced on Shiro’s knees as they raised on either side of his hips, “had to learn how to cook and _may_ have nearly stabbed myself in the dick.” 

Shiro laughed, but it was short, and quiet...and sad.

“You’re really something…”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not the only one with scars.” 

Brown eyes lifted from the stark contrast of skin and scar, watching Matthew’s face in wavering concentration. He wanted him close- more than a physical plane could offer, but still he pushed off of the mattress. Shiro pressed his cheek to bare stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around the small of Matt’s back, and he held him there for a moment.

Gentle hands slid through white strands, letting time snake it’s treacherous hands around them in silence. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We both made it out, Shiro. That’s what matters.” 

“...you’re so much stronger than you know…”

“I know how strong I am. It’s these other dweebs that need to get on my level.”

Shiro pressed an easy laugh into the skin of Matt’s stomach, pressing a kiss to the dark freckle just above his naval. His arms slid loose from around the rebel’s waist as he placed his palms flat beside his knees- moving his knees beneath himself.

They knelt nearly level with one another- Shiro still maintaining the inches of height the other man cursed him for. He felt Matt’s hands skip fingertips along the curve of us hip, pushing gingerly on the lip of his sweatpants, before hooking his thumbs beneath the elastic band of his underwear.

The rebel’s eyes flicked down to find purchase on the movements of his hands, slowly sliding the combined fabric off of strong hips- leaving them to hang loose at the paladin’s knees. When he looked back up, loose hair framed his face and hung half caught in the strands at the front of Shiro’s hairline. 

“...what?” He must’ve understood that Shiro had been watching his face and tried to find an explanation for it.

“I don’t know...I just feel...something I can’t...really put words to.” 

Matt smiled, lifting a hand to collect the strands of his hair that had saw fit to cling to the shorter strands they’d caught on. Shiro leaned forward, steadying himself with plans pressed into sides of Matthew’s thighs, and kissed him. And Matthew returned it, the movements of his mouth soft and slow. 

“I love you,” fluttered across his lips, carried on Matthew’s gentle exhale, “I always have.”

Shiro leaned into the kiss, trying to take the words with him, bury them somewhere they could always stay. They were the words he needed and the swam in his heart with guilt and apologies.

“God, I love you so much,” his lips trembled, just barely forming the words he needed Matt to know, “I’m sorry-“

“...don’t…” it was breathless, caught in between quick breaths, and a quiet gasp as Shiro took him in his hand, “you- _don’t_ mm-ah- have toapologize. Oooh fuck, Shiro.”

A hiss, overwhelmed with the heavy pit in Shiro’s chest and the pressure of Matthew’s fingers as they grasped for reciprocation, escaped his lips. His shook, somewhere deep in the muscle and he pumped the pressure of his grasp against the force of Matthew in his hand. Matt’s opposite hand drew a thin line of nail against skin along the inside of his thigh, light, a feathering touch until he cupped Shiro’s scrotum in the palm of his hand. 

“Mm-fffmatt,” he gasped, his head dropping forward to rest on the curve of the rebel’s shoulder. His breath huffed, sloppy against the skin of Matthew’s collar bone where he dragged his tongue. 

A gravel heavy moan lited just above Shiro’s ear, his free hand catching Matthew’s weight as his head drifted back in a wave of pleasure- a curtain of strawberry hair swung back, casting odd shadows on the opposite wall. 

Their hands moved, mapping familiar paths- well trained in what had the other moaning a string of curses against mouths, or shoulders, pressed boneless into the center of a chest. 

Shiro found himself half curled into his own stomach as spit slick fingers worked against him-a low, throaty growl pressed into the meat of his neck. Matthew’s right hand slid up, dragging along Shiro’s stomach, before pressing his palm into the center of Shiro’s chest. He pushed, just strong enough to break their mouths apart, and Shiro stared at him wide eyes for a moment- his eyes searching for a silent answer.

What he’d been met with instead was kiss swollen lips inviting Matt’s middle and index finger into the rebel’s mouth. He could feel a renewed pressure swell up in Matthew’s hand and it was met with a steady squeeze of fingers that shot fire up his spine. 

“...oh god…” he whined, watching as Matt pulled his fingers out of his mouth.

Matt’s knees pressed into the inside of Shiro’s spreading them as wide as his sweatpants would allow, before mumbling something in frustration. Quicker than Shiro could ever ready himself for the hand around him left, joining is spit soaked brother in a fumbling attempt to get the pants all the way off of Shiro’s legs.

The paladin obliged twisting to reach behind himself and work the pants off his calves and the heels of his feet. The hand was back on him again, tight, and warm with spit. He spread his own knees against the resistance of the mattress beneath him, having already known what Matt would have wanted from him. He felt the slide of Matt’s finger slide along the cleft of his ass, searching, but coming up short. The rebels head pressed against his chest at an awkward angle while he worked along Shiro in the opposite hand 

“Lay back,” a breathless, rushed request, “just lay back.”

“Yeah, o-“ his words cut off as a particularly skilled sweep of thumb along the sensitive patch of skin at the underside of his head sent a wave of glorious tension through him,”fffffffuck, goddamn Matt.”

The only answer he’d been granted was a wicked, heavy lidded, smirk as Shiro jerked himself into the warm embrace of the rebel’s hand.

The touch was gone again and it took more control than Shiro would ever admit to keep the desperate noise in his chest at bay. The only consolation being the dangerous look in Matthew’s eyes that he had something worth the time apart. He slid his ankles forward, his feet planted on either side of Matt’s hips as they sunk back into their places. 

He shivered as feather light kisses trailed their way from the curve of his knee- further and further down his thigh. 

“AH-! SSHIT!” Shiro gasped, his voice echoed back to him from barren metal walls as Matt’s mouth pressed, hot, and wet around the tendous line of his inner thigh. 

“Mhmm~” came an all to pleased hum, before a mischievous tongue ran over the curve of his scrotum, before curling around the base of him.

A heavy hand shot down, strong fingers curled into the hair at the back of Matt’s head, pushing his mouth further against him. His hips jerked, involuntary convulsions in the muscles of his stomach and thighs sending him trembling against a greedy mouth. He could feel the wet palm of Matthew’s hand slide beneath him and as he relaxed the pressure of a finger pressed up against him. And that’s all it was as Matthew took Shiro in his mouth- a pressure and it unsettled something heavy and needy. 

His eyes fluttered closed, too determined to roll in his head to stay open, as his fingers pressed into Matthew’s scalp, his hips rolling on their own accord. 

“ah- aAAH!” He didn’t control the sounds coming out of his mouth and barely had the where shouts to care how they sounded as steady, sure, circles were rubbed against him with a pair of dexterous fingers, “M-Matt! MATT! If you d-d-don’t stop I’m gonna- ssssshii-!”

“Alright, aright,” followed the wet smack of lips finally surrendering purchase on the man below him. 

“-iiit. Jesus you’re-“

“Evil?” Matthew smirked from between Shiro’s knees, moving to plant his palms on Shiro’s hips to raise himself closer on his knees, “a bad, bad man; Matthew Holt. That’s what it will say on my tombstone? Gimme your leg.”

Shiro laughed, breathless, and frazzled from being st the mercy of the rebel shifting to hook Shiro’s knee over his shoulder, before reaching off to the side- grabbing the handle for the draw of Shiro’s side table. Jitter heavy hands worked to tear the corner of the foil packet he’d managed to pluck from its cardboard box. Shirowatched, laid back in silence, paying no mind to the jolt of his own as he watched Matthew’s shoulders tremble from sensation of rolling the condom down. 

Matthew paused, quickly snatching the foil up in his hand- haphazardly tossing it in the direction of the trash bin beside the side table. And in a moment he could feel the pressure of Matthew between in the cleft of his ass, pressing, slowly against the skin he’d been rubbing against with slicked fingers. 

“Doing okay?” Amber eyes lifted from where they’d been focused between Shiro’s legs to watch the paladin’s face. 

“...god yeah…” breathless still- willing himself to relax into the pressure.

“ ‘Kay.” Quiet, focused.

And just as Shiro felt him breach the tight ring of muscle Matthew’s hand shook against the curve of Shiro’s knee where it rested. Pale fingers pressed semi circles of pressure into his knee cap as he fought to keep his pressure steady and hold his hips back from the jerk they could both feel building in his muscle. 

“ _aaaaaaa_ ” “ohgodfuck” “Shiro- mmmmyoufeel so fucking good.” Their words blended into one another, half rambled, half breathless moans as the rebel settled in fully.

Matthew fell still, his shoulders rounded in on themselves, braced up by the hand gripping Shiro’s knee draped over his shoulder, and the other pressed into the mattress beside Shiro’s hip. Slowly he pulled his hips back, against the unearthly warmth inside the man beneath him. Shiro fought the arch forcing its way into spine with the movement, calling Matt’s name in an urgent whisper. 

Hips forward, messy kisses into the inside of Shiro’s knee, whispered praise and prayers into the soft flesh there. 

He could feel the pressure inside of him build, lightening just enough as Matthew pulled back from him, and returned in a swell as whatever it was Matthew had found coaxed him closer to the edge. Shiro could feel it, using the leverage his hooked knee afforded him to press his weight down into Matt, with unbridled moans. 

The room once occupied by stories of adventures and apologizes unneeded filled with the hushed whispers of praise and curses, moans, and grunts with little pretense.

“S-Shiro-“ half a warning, but Shiro had felt it building long before Matthew had the wherewithal to speak it into existence.

“F-Fuck, I know, ohgodMatt-“ 

Matthew’s thighs shook, involuntary jerking his hips against Shiro as something ferocious seized his body just long enough to leave his words trapped in his throat. 

“Ooohgod,” hissed out of Matthew’s lungs, finally let free. Shiro lifted his hips as the rebel pulled back. 

Matthew moved to worked the condom off of himself, carefully working to tie it off, before wrapping it in tissue and dropping it in the trash bin with the discarded foil. The movement was quick, but long enough that Shiro had the time to come back to himself and start to feel oddly exposed in the moment. He felt himself coming down just for a brief moment, only to be stirred back into himself by the feeling of Matt’s mouth pressing back into the skin of knee. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Matthew breathes against the skin of his leg, trailing his mouth back down to the Shiro’s thigh.

“You can’t steal my lines.” Shiro chuckled, but found it cut short as Matthew’s tongue licked a burning trail down the length of him- the skin chilled from the air of the room. 

“Whoops,” came his incredulous reply, the spark in his eyes making it far too evident he enjoyed the way his breath sent chills up Shiro’s spine. 

The smirk just barely lifting in the corners of his lips as he took Shiro into his mouth making it far too evident he enjoyed making the other man writhe shamelessly even more. His hands were back in Matthew’s hair, working shakily to pull it back from his face, and hold it in loose fist as the rebel slid his thumb down between Shiro’s legs to roll over the taut skin beneath his scrotum. 

The motion sent the paladin’s hips lifting from the mattress in a jerky, unbridled motion, riding the pressure of Matthew’s thumb and the warm wet of his mouth.

“Mm! Ah!” Barely coherent sounds fell from his lips, earning a second hand grabbing at the meat of his ass in response, pushing him up- arching his lower back off of the mattress. 

Matthew held fast to the sporadic jolts Shiro couldn’t seem to bring under any kind of control. His mouth pressing down into the soft mound of flesh as the base, and riding the desperate thrust into the back of his throat. 

“aa _aaAAH_ ” his prosthetic swung to the side, digging metal fingers deep into the pillows Matt had proper himself up on at the beginning of the night.

“Fffuuuck!” He whined, loud, and high in his throat, trying his best to be gentle with the hair he still held in his other hand- but the rumble of a satisfied growl deep in Matthew’s chest had sent everything crashing down. 

It all went blank.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Shiro remembered the way Saturn’s rings looked through the fishbowl port in their bunk room. He could smell the brand of hand sanitizer the Garrison stocked on the Kerberos mission. He could feel the same texture of hair, but shorter, and more wild caught between his fingers. 

He felt weightless.

For a moment he was.

Weightless and caught in a memory. 

Grasping for time- pleading for the nostalgia to stay because they had such high hopes then.

The world around them was left untouched by some galactic war.

Matt’s skin was still pale and untouched aside from the scar he’s gotten on his knee one summer. 

But soon the bed was beneath his back and he felt himself sink, heavy, and satiated back into the present moment. Matthew has pushed up into his knees, wiping his mouth with his forearm, before moving to straddle Shiro’s side. 

“...you okay?” Shiro heard him whisper.

“Yeah,” He wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not, “I’m just...I still have that feeling I can’t...figure out.”

“Is it a good one?” 

“I think so…yeah. Yeah, it’s good. It’s just- different.”

“Hm,” Matthew hummed, his lips pressed lazily into the skin of a warm shoulder, an arm draped across Shiro’s chest, “maybe different isn’t so bad.”

“...yeah...maybe not…”

**Author's Note:**

> 8I 
> 
> I thought I could write penis or dick- or literally anything in context, but had to put ** as space holders. It just- I don’t know why, but it all seemed like it didn’t fit with the tone.
> 
> So....I JUST USED PRONOUNS....sorry if it’s confusing.


End file.
